


Can't Make Smoke, Only Steam

by recrudescence



Category: Glee
Genre: Daddy Kink, Kink Meme, M/M, Somnophilia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-24
Updated: 2010-05-24
Packaged: 2017-10-09 17:02:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/89671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/recrudescence/pseuds/recrudescence
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What the hell. Everyone does crazy shit in their sleep sometimes. Kurt mumbles things occasionally. Finn twitches like a dog dreaming of chasing Frisbees. Puck's own sister used to drive him crazy by sleepwalking back and forth on the couch.</p><p>Contains daddykink, somnophilia, and consensual underage depravity featuring both.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Can't Make Smoke, Only Steam

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by a prompt from the Glee Kink Meme: _Kurt calls Puck daddy for some reason (drunk, half-asleep, babbling while on Vitamin D, whatever) and Puck is a little weirded out by how **not** weirded out he is by it._

  
Sleeping, Kurt can pass for a four-dimensional portrait of near-nauseating wholesomeness. All stretched out in his matchy-matched pajamas even though it's summer, smelling clean and looking young, which comes of having a baby face and a penchant for putting various organic things on it. Puck doesn't see the point of maintaining that kind of routine at the tender age of sixteen, but Kurt insists it's best to get into the habit early and not everyone can run around cleaning pools and picking up a killer tan.

They have the house to themselves while Kurt's dad is at some kind of garage thing, which is a-okay by Puck. It took a while for Mr. Hummel to believe his son was seeing Puck because he actually _wanted_ to and not because he'd developed Stockholm Syndrome or PTSD after one too many tosses into the trash. And no parental figure present means a perfect excuse to crash at Kurt's and make the most of it. Even if, at the moment, that consists solely of Kurt hugging him like an oversized teddy bear and somehow not making Puck feel claustrophobic about it. Kurt tries to keep still when he sleeps, saying it's best to lie on your back so that fluids drain from around the eyes and don't create puffiness, but he can't ever seem to stay in one position for long, always wrapping himself around pillows or blankets or Puck.

At the moment, that entails Kurt's face nudging into the side of Puck's neck, slim fingers open-closing aimlessly over his chest. Murmuring vaguely, and Puck nearly misses hearing him because he's half-asleep himself. "Love you..."

It's like being drenched with the force of a hundred ice-cold Slushies. _And_realizing you don't have an extra pair of pants. He freezes up, wakes up, clenches up; all intensely, all at once. They've been together for a few months, which is a pretty impressive stretch for Puck and both the first and longest time Kurt's been with _anyone_, but god_damn_.

Puck's heart is thudding in his ears and he almost doesn't catch it when Kurt shifts and mumbles again, warm-lipped and quiet against the patch of skin behind his ear. "Love you, daddy."

What. The. Fuck.

No, really. What the fuck?

He very nearly yelps it aloud.

If they were both fully awake, he'd be saying Kurt seemingly has a whole lot of something that rhymes with fatty tissues, even though Puck's aware that he probably has some pretty enormous daddy issues of his own since he's the one who doesn't actually have a _dad_ even though he _is_ one now. Then Kurt nudges into him again, body molding against Puck's own with a small muffled sigh.

So maybe it's no big deal. What the hell. Everyone does crazy shit in their sleep sometimes. Kurt mumbles things occasionally. Finn twitches like a dog dreaming of chasing Frisbees. Puck's own sister used to drive him crazy by sleepwalking back and forth on the couch.

He kind of likes it, the way Kurt squirms against him without even realizing he's doing it, completely trusting and uninhibited. Distracting. It's nice. Would be even if Kurt wasn't hard and pressing against him through thin cotton pants, a bundle of restless limbs and too-heated skin and vague sleepy sounds—all wrapped up in those fucking _pajamas_.

It's a simple enough solution. Tugging the waistband down over the crest of his ass and touching. Just looking his fill, at first, before rubbing a thumb over the red-flushed flesh between pale thighs, letting his fingers map up the underside, only to have Kurt wriggle and hum, turning fitfully onto his back. Pajama top riding up his body and leaving Puck free to bend in and kiss the delicate skin below his navel, flicking the tip of his tongue into the little dip of skin, and he might very well be on his way to scouring that really unfortunate sleep-talking incident out of his brain. So that's good.

There's a flicker and blink and the black-obscured blue of Kurt's eyes coming open. "Do it, daddy, please." Voice giving way to a quiet sigh when Puck takes a small pink nipple into his mouth and sucks it into hardness. Face tipped back and gaze glinting shrewdly under heavy eyelids, and Kurt has to be awake enough to _know_ by now what's going on even though he doesn't say so. Because, instead of recoiling and hand-wringing like a normal person, Puck fucking _groans_ into his skin for some reason he's too shaken up to think about.

Burning it out of his brain. Like any _sane_ person should. Yeah.

He really isn't sure which one of them is more perverted right now, but the odds are moving steadily onto his side when he stares at Kurt like he's _daring_ him and rasps out, "Say it again," in a voice still sleep-husked and strained.

Kurt peers up at him, lips reddened and parted, debauched and tousle-haired and still with that neat little pajama top caught under his armpits. Amused as hell and way too on point for someone who just woke up. "I'm sorry, Noah, what was that?"

Puck doesn't answer. Not immediately, not with any words. Both his hands curving, guiding Kurt's legs to fall open so he can insinuate himself between them and use his mouth for another kind of reply. Taking his time with it, pausing just long enough to reach over to what Kurt calls a vanity and Puck just calls the table-thing with lube in it. Presses open the tube, ducking right back down and mouthing and slurping audibly, _shamelessly_, because Kurt's a fan of messiness in bed the way he never is outside of it and Puck's never had any trouble being a little obscene. Kurt, who whine-hiccups his name and curls his hands into the sheets.

When he lifts his head again, Kurt meets his eyes and slowly smiles again, languidly rolling his body up into the roaming press of Puck's palm. "Oh, _I_ see." He actually titters, though his breath catches hard when Puck slides a finger into him just for a moment, fast and firm. "Someone's got issues..."

"Say it, you goddamn tease," biting lightly at the inside of one thigh, and teasing that finger against him. Probing and withdrawing and biding his time, but venturing no further.

Kurt makes a tormented little sound, working into a fantastic crescendo because Puck has that finger undulating up into him all over again and there's no pressure to be quiet. "You're an _ass._"

"Yup. An ass who owns your ass." He smirks at him, drawing his hand back and reaching for the pants still tangled at Kurt's ankles as if to draw them back up again. "But, y'know, if you're not interested..."

Sex and bribery is a combination that doesn't often disappoint and Kurt's as susceptible to it as anyone. "I...okay..." goes Kurt, haltingly. "Just..._okay_." Like he's steeling himself up for a particularly spectacular solo. Squirming and twisting until he can kick the pants off his feet, a hand down the front of Puck's boxer briefs and a leg winding around his waist. Puck can feel every breath he takes, quivery and far too fast. "Go ahead, wanna feel it, want you to fuck me so hard." The room is dark, but Kurt's face is hot against his and Puck knows that means he has to be blushing scarlet, which just makes it that much more filthy when one of those slim little hands curls around him. "Put your cock in me, daddy, please." His voice breaks a tiny bit

For at least a solid minute, Puck goes fucking cross-eyed and possibly has an aneurysm. His fingers are digging into Kurt's ribs. "_Shit_, man."

"'Mm? 's that what you want?" Big-eyed and faux-innocent, making Puck bear him down and duck his face against that pale stomach and groan. _Again_. Kurt isn't helping at all, almost _purring_ under him and saying shit like, "Was I good enough? Gonna take care of me now?" He sounds a little mortified with himself, but in Puck's opinion that makes it even _better_.

"_Fuck_, yeah." Then he's licking and gasping into that nicely parted mouth, sucking at his tongue till Kurt's nails are biting into his shoulders and his teeth are biting into Puck's lip. "_Yeah_."

He's gradual about working him open, bringing him up to a strung-out mess of unintelligible little pleas, slick-tight and arching around three of Puck's fingers. _Slow_, each step of the way, all the way up to slipping on a condom and slipping inside him. Not giving it to him all at once, even then, and there's something damn near _unholy_ about getting Kurt to leak and swear and almost fucking _sob_ for him to fuck him again. Dripping against his belly and bringing his knees in as far as he can, exposing himself that much more. He's not calling Puck any name but his own now, and probably too far gone to realize he's saying anything at all. Christ. It's fucking hot. _Christ_. He thinks maybe he's saying it out loud.

"Hey now, I've got you." Slow, full movements with his lower body, and Kurt actually works a hand down between them to press clumsily where where the skin stretches taut around Puck's cock. "_Fuck_, yeah, that's it. Do that again." Feeling the quiver in Kurt's slighter form, the agitated leap of the pulse in his throat when he kisses there.

"'s a good boy." Muttering while he's stroking bed-wrecked hair, and Kurt doesn't take umbrage, doesn't assume Puck's got to be patronizing him—just hisses and clings to him until he's crying out and slowly coming back down.

There's something really fucking weird about how _not_ weird this is all going down. Maybe it's the prospect of actually being able to take care of someone and not fuck it up. Kurt doesn't suffer fools gladly and, somewhere in there, Kurt's opinions actually started really kind of mattering. Maybe around when Quinn was putting their baby up for adoption, months before, best for everyone, and he'd suddenly been positive that he'd screwed things up so fucking much. Puck's still not able to shake off that feeling sometimes, not even during fight club, but at least he won't be knocking anyone else up in the near future. Lesson fucking _learned_.

He untwists himself enough to trash the condom and give Kurt the space to straighten himself out—he uses Puck's underwear to scrub himself off, which means Puck's not putting it back on, which is probably Kurt's logic as well. "We are never," Kurt finally announces, choosing _now_ to sound scandalized, "never, _ever_ doing this while my dad is within less than a fifty mile radius of the house. Possibly even fifty thousand. That's like...I dunno, taking his name in vain or something."

"Huh." Double-taking at the implication Kurt might not mind this happening again, period. "I dunno, I think you must really miss your dad now, huh?"

"_God_." Kurt makes a face and actually punches him on the arm, which only gets Puck to grin. "Don't be gross. You're the one who totally got off on it."

"And you were, what, lying there thinking of Poland the whole time, right?"

"England." Kurt tries to flip his hair, but without any gel it just falls back into his eyes. Puck doesn't fare much better, but the way it glides coolly between his fingers is kind of addicting. "And I mean it. You have issues." He's too busy yawning to say it with any conviction whatsoever, and perfectly content to nestle back under the blankets and squirm a bare leg over Puck's hip.

"See, what I wanna know is how you're gonna top this the next time you talk in your sleep."

Kurt makes a small sound of despair, but Puck's already brainstorming. This is going to be the best summer assignment ever.


End file.
